Normality is Nonexistent
by helvengurl
Summary: For a traitor, and a witch-child, can normality exist?
1. Chapter 1

I'll never forget the day I met him, after Galbortorix's slaying. And, what stunned me more than his pain that he felt- was the fact that he stood next to me during Nasuada's coronation, as though I was perfectly normal.. It was perhaps the greatest gift anyone had ever given me. And so, I vowed I would one day return the favor. It only seemed right, after all.

And I'll also never forget, that as he walked away, without a second glance my way (another great gift in itself), how I grabbed his hand. My violet eyes had been opened wide, both in fear, his pain, and my own joy, "I can never thank you for your gift, Murtagh," I had said, as he stared at me, slightly(but understandably) confused, "And so, the greatest gift I can now give to you is this consolation. You are not alone in your pain. You never will be. Of this, I swear."

And, so my years of seclusion passed. Year after year of silent pain, always there. Years of Angela and her crazy thoughts. Years of nothing near normality. So, it is understandable that I would grasp onto that memory, replay it in my dreams, and relive it every time I felt ridiculed. It was my moment of normality, and so, to that I grasped.

I aged to sixteen years, my growing stopping as I hit five. My violet eyes never changed, only getting deeper in hue. I have filled out as any young woman would, but by the age of three. My black hair has grown longer, something I've indulged myself in. And, by allowing my bangs to grow out, I can cover my yawe.

It still allowed nothing but wary stares, and the one resounding thought and fear: Witch child. More than once, my curse almost caused me to kill myself. Had it not been for Angela, I may not be here still. But, somehow, I am still here, so I do believe mayhaps my purpose is bigger than I think.

I just didn't know what.

Until I saw him.

And he just walked by me, without recognition, fear, or anything else for me.

And so, for a second time, he granted me the greastes thing I could ever ask for.

Normality.


	2. Chapter 2

He only stayed a week that time, but it was his second-longest visit to date. Mostly when he came, they were one, two days, never much more than that. The longest visit he had ever had there was the month he had spent here for his trial. I suppose, having been subjected to so much here, this place was made of nothing but pain, the stones of bondage held together for him by the mortar of harsh times. So, I suppose I understand his reluctance to be here.

That year, he visited four more times; each time, he passed me by without so much as a glance my way; each time, I vowed to thank him. Each time, he left before I got the chance.

A few days before the eve of the fifteenth year since Galabortorix's demise, I was summoned before Queen Nasuada. She bestowed upon me a royal purple gown, and an invitation to the ball, with the mandate to find an escort for the ball, which was in three day's time.

_Ha,_ I scoffed to myself, _good luck. No one wants to dance with a witch- child._ I held my tongue, keeping the thought entirely in the sanctuary of my own mind. There was no need to get Nasuada huffed up. I waved goodbye to King Jarsha, and left.

I threw the plum-colored velvet dress in the closest fire out of their sight.

No one wants to dance with a witch child.

The day of the ball, I snuck off to the Dragon hold, to escape the endless preparations, and both Nasuada's and Angela's endless harassment. They simply smiled as I left, as though they thought I was going off to meet a boy. It's nice to have people wrapped around your finger. Mainly though, that's just Nasuada. I'm like her daughter, in many ways. It's a peculiar childhood you have when you have a Queen and a… an _Angela_raising you.

The Dragon hold was large, about 7,000 feet in diameter, all in smooth, gleaming white marble. There were nigh 300 rooms lining the large, airy dome that was situated on the sparkling (similarly marble) floor. They all faced the center, open, as though one had taken a knife and cut them in half. There was a hole in the top of the dome, what one may think of as an architectural design flaw, but it served its purpose well. It was three hundred feet across, to accommodate dragons of any size flying in. A large golden jewel sat in it, known as the Rock of Kuithan. Each rider and dragon had only to speak their true names, and the rock was like jell, they had only to fly through, and it was back to its amazingly solid state. It filled the large white room with a warm golden glow, and I was sure that no matter how much snow would settle outside it, it would still remain warm in this place.

Thirty large columns, maybe twenty-five feet in diameter, were stationed evenly around the perimeter of the dome, and behind each was a large staircase leading to the Rooms. I went to the second story, and stood in what I counted as the thirty-forth room, going clockwise, if I counted from the large door leading into the castle. In the right hand corner, was a large ornate door, about the size of a human. They were present in each of the large, open rooms. Just behind the shiny brass doorknob laid my sanctuary, although traditionally, they were the Rider's quarters. No one could find me here, save Arya and Blhodgarm, the elves who were assigned to guard the eggs, and catalogue all who touched them. I think the more academic work suited the two of them, and much to Eragon's dismay and disappointment, I could sense something growing between them. Perhaps I was reading into the elves subtleties to much, but of that I doubted. They locked the door behind me, saying they were off to the ball, and I kept a snicker off my face. I don't think I could ever get used to elves, especially Blhodgarm, dancing. It just seemed so… _human._

Each was a large rectangular room, with a set of large arched openings facing the outside of the room. Large, heavy grapes were available to pull over them, if need be. Each had a large, well-equip wash room, with rock heated baths. I marveled at the elves thought that had gone into them, so that the Riders could use their magic, Set fire to the stones, and the heat would then go through the thin but strong porcelain, and heat the water. Occasionally, now in the winter, I bathe here, after Arya taught me how to set fire to the rocks. It's one of the few exceptions to my 'no ancient language' rule. There were small but elaborate basins for a quick wash of the face and hands, and lavish towels were kept at the ready in each room. Wardrobes adorned with seeing mirrors were overflowing with the finest elvish tunics. Decanters sat ready for Falnivir, and goblets by the decanters. Plush cushions of varying blue, black, purple and red velvet were littered about, as were plain, low tables. There sat in each two overstuffed armchairs, a couch, and a chase lounge, all in either a matching red or black, occasionally mustard-colored brocade.

The dragon hold was the labor of the races, a picture of unity rarely seen elsewhere. Humans kept the hold running, as well as providing all of the pottery and glass. The dwarves kept the marble strong, and cared for it as though it were their precious sapphire. All of the linens and metalwork was provided by the elves, as well as a set of guards for the eggs, which switched every month. The werecats provided a magical orb, and the pedestals on which each of the eggs stood. They prevented the corrupt of heart and mind from nearing the eggs, helping to cut down on the likelihood of another evil rider.

And then, they disappeared.

Werecats are ever so vexing.

So, the hold was mine, except when the elves were there, and Saphira and Shruikan. Of course, the eggs were there too, but they bothered no one.

I could just imagine the hold in its golden age, the sparring fields outside, with riders eagerly trying to dominate the others, trying to gain an elder's praise. I could see the dragons too, in all hues and shades, lazily walking about, their ivory talons clicking on the hard marble, the warmth of their bodies. I could see them streaking across the skies, and hear the merry hoots of their Riders.

So absorbed was I in this dead realm, I scarcely heard the steady beating of wings, the _thunk_ of a landing, or even the slight creak as the door opened. I didn't hear his footfalls; I didn't even notice the influx of pain, for I was so used to the constant pain. No, I didn't know he was there until after his rough hand fell on my shoulder, pulling me back with a jolt from my realm of imagination, and forcing me to see only barren fields.

I leapt back, stifling a flow of curses and calming my rapidly beating heart. And who else would be there but_him._"Murtagh." I drop into a quick, clumsy curtsy, "Argetlam Murtagh" I think I really looked like a fool, floundering about as I had.

He opened his mouth, and a rich velvety sound I had never heard came tumbling out:

His voice.

He said, "Murtagh. I go by Murtagh. Not Argetlam, Shurtugal, Traitor, Scum." Bitterness seeps into his voice at the last two words, and I cringed slightly at the thought of being called either of them.

"Oh." I say, pausing a moment, "I wouldn't call you Traitor or Scum. In fact, I may kill anyone who does. It pains you- after all. I don't speak in the Ancient language unless the need arises, and am unable to work around it. I think you would understand if the language cursed you." I mentally slap myself, because it did hurt him, it did curse him. "My name is Elva, just Elva, not Witch Child. Angela and Nasuada call me Elle. You could to, if it pleases you."

He muttered my name a few times, as though trying to recollect who I am, and then makes a noise of recognition, "Ah, yes, I remember. The child Eragon cursed." If he remembered the Coronation day, he didn't mention it, and he got very quiet, as though pondering something.

"You mean that _dolt_ Eragon." I correct, "Life's hell for a Witch Child."

He faced the window; his hands clasped behind him, and gave a humorless, cynical laugh, "Try being Morzan's son." His short hair moved in the breeze, but it was already pushed back from his face from riding on his dragon.

I didn't say a word. There wasn't really much to say. Was I going to disagree with him? No. The pain he felt, and through my curse, I also felt, was proof enough. He was a shunned as me. We sat there in comfortable silence as we peered out over the barren jousting fields, until I muttered, somewhat out of place, "Thank you."

He gave me a confused look, "And what, pray tell, have I done for you worth thanks?"

His sudden formality in speech was a bit unexpected. Perhaps he isn't thanked often, but after a slight confused pause on my part, I managed to say, "You gave me… normality."

I looked out at the sparring fields, aware of his dark eyes on my face as I beat back a blush, and he gave a bark of laughter, "Elva," he managed to say when he controlled his laughter enough, "I do believe this is the largest conversation we have ever had! How have I given you normality? And since when, quite honestly, would you crave something like that?"

His laughter was rich and exotic, spicy and jolting, like cinnamon, but I felt myself blush at it. I didn't really know how to answer.

And by answer, I mean, without sounding like Angela.

So, instead I just mumbled, "Never mind."

He furrowed his brow, "Would I not understand?" He looked at may face so intently, it shocked me. It was as though he was trying to unravel some mystery. It was as though he was quite bent on figuring something-namely me- out. It seemed forever until I managed to speak, "I-I-it's not you…" I stuttered out in my inexplicable nervousness, "No one does."

He stopped smiling, and a part of me was sad that he did. His face was impassive, and there was a piece of hair in his face that was driving me insane. I fought back the fanatical urge to brush it out of his face, because a weird feeling was blossoming within me as I watched him contemplate… well, whatever it was he was contemplating.

After some time, how long it had been, I don't know, all I knew was that I had memorized every fold of clothing, every feature on his face, every hair on his head, before he broke the silence, "What were you doing in here?" he asked, glancing over at me. For a moment his dark eyes caught my eerie, violet ones, and I tore my eyes away from him, and glanced out at the fields.

"I was just…" I grinned and nudged a pillow with my bare foot, "Imagining."

"Mmm…" he said, and after another pause, he asked, "What of?"

"Riders, in their golden age."

"Ah." He said again, and then we went back to silence.

"Would you like Falnivir?" I asked.

He shook his head no, "No. I can't stand the stuff. I remain steadfastly human in that instance- warm ale suits my tastes fine." he stopped and then, as though remembering his manners said, "Thank you, though."

This shocked me, though. I was used to Eragon being more elf than human. He eats like them, speaks like them, thinks like them. He even prefers their women to humans. It's quite unnerving, frankly. So, for me, seeing a Rider that wasn't so elven was surprising and new- in a pleasant way.

"I'll go get you some." I stood up, and picked my skirts up to hurry away to grab some, and I heard him chuckle, "What is so amusing?" I turned around, fighting back a smile at his own smirk, and shot him a questioning glare.

"You are, Elva." He stood up and gently touched the sleeve of my white dress my questioning look softened, and I glanced fearfully down at my arm, and back at him, with one eyebrow arched. He didn't see it though. A small, secretive smile twitched at the corners of his lips, and he looks as though he was visiting some memory, a fond one, from long ago. "I doubt Nasuada would take kindly to her favorite girl being reduced to the status of a servant."

"How did you know?!" I exclaimed, floored as to how he was privy to such information.

He grinned and leaned down to my ear, and whispered, "Nasuada wore that on her coronation day- her way of saying that as a ruler, her people would come before riches, like a highly adorned gown."

His whisper thrilled me, and made me on edge for a moment, until he let go of his gentle grasp on my arm, and went to walk away. I put my arm on he shoulder, and I leaned up to whisper, "Well, then, we won't tell Nasuada about this, will we? The servants are all busy at the ball." He grinned, glancing at me through the corners of his eyes, which were slightly veiled by overgrown bangs.

"Deal." He said. As I walked out, he followed. I told him I'd be back in a moment, and I started down the staircase. Thorn came scampering across the room towards the staircase, and Murtagh looked up quickly. He skidded to a halt, and I reached over the banister and asked him, "What's wrong?"

In my mind Saphira replied,_He tried to sleep by me. I don't want that bag of black magic and bad blood near me. Not even worthy to be called a Dragon, if you ask me… He's to twisted with the dark king's magic. Witch dragon._

I looked back at the sorrowful crimson eye. There's so much there, sorrow, longing, needing. Murtagh heaved a resigned sigh. Thorn was so vulnerable. So alone. So… wanting.

Wanting acceptance.

Wanting _normality_.

I touched his muzzle, and the pain poured into me. It brought me almost to tears. I wrapped my arms around his muzzle best I can and said in his mind, _**I**____love you, Thorn. I don't think you're a bundle of bad blood and black magic._

_Thank you, human._He said,_I mean, Elle._

_Not human. Witch child._I give him a small, cynical smile,_not so unalike, are we?_

I didn't wait for an answer. I slid down the railing, and stormed across the room towards Saphira. Before thinking of the consequences, I plant a solid smack on her muzzle, "Don't you say that. Ever. Again. Do you hear?" She just blinks, "After all, wasn't it _your_ Rider who caused me to be like I am? Hold your judgment- you are in no place to judge, Prima Dona."

I turned and stormed out to get the Ale, and I walked hurriedly. I didn't want to be burnt to a crisp, quite honestly, and I wasn't going to give Saphira the chance to recover from her little shock and decide she wanted some nice, crispy Elva for a snack.

That would be very bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Walking down the five flights of stairs was not necessarily hard work, but mind-numbing. My bare feet hit the perpetually cold stone silently, and on one small landing I scared a scurrying, disheveled maid. The crude, rough-hewn railings were nothing like the rich, smooth, decadent ones in the great halls and the areas where nobility resided. The craftsmen's negligence of the servants' chambers always seemed to get Nasuada worked up. It was not at all uncommon for me to be unable to sleep, and wander about, to find her there, bleary-eyed and silent, sanding away the wood in a fit of queenly defiance. "Simply because I am a queen, does not mean I can not deal with rough work. How quickly they all have forgotten me on the battlefield!" she would mutter at times.

Nasuada's stubbornness and that situation in particular never ceased to entertain me. Whoever heard of a queen sanding her servant's railings when insomnia struck her bed ill suited? Of course, whoever heard of a witch child and toads not being toads, only frogs? If you ask me, this castle is chock full of crazy people! Sadly, they happen to be ruling the country. What makes the situation funny is that this country is much better off then it was. Perhaps this land is doomed to one insane leader after another. I'm fine with that so long as I do not take throne. I fear then the world would be quite doomed.

Upon reaching the bustling kitchen, I managed to elbow my way through the frenzy and place a pot over the fire. The head maid went to put me to work, until she realized who I was. Quickly she apologized, and backed away, as though I would suddenly curse her for a simple mistake. Her eldest son was getting ready to leave home tomorrow morning. She'd give him tonight's wages, even though they were behind on their taxes. I would have given her coin, but I also happened to know she was quite prideful. She would not accept my help. I asked the one cook, Eric, for a pitcher of warm ale.

I placed my tea on a wooden tray, and when I smelt the concoction, I knew why men drank it. Women weren't stupid enough to drink such foul-smelling poison! The way back up was slower than before, because I wasn't about to drop this. I knew by bow, the kitchen would be buzzing with speculations about me, and I wouldn't go back down there if my life depended upon it. I hated the awkward, instant silences that occurred when I walked in the room, the sudden absence in conversation caused by the subject of said conversation being there. Such instances would best be dealt with me acting as nothing had happened. I always knew what had happened, but I knew that myself running off crying would do no good.

I pushed open the doors, and walked into the dragon hold. Murtagh had taken off his traveling cloak, but I noticed that his sword remained strapped to his hip. Perhaps if we talked more than once, I would ask him about why I always saw him with his sword. He was stretched along Thorn's foreleg, his hands clasped behind his head, and staring at a spot on the wall with a look of meditation. Of course, the usual influx of pain came, but after a moment, I took a deep breath, and then an unbearable pain washed over me. I gasped and put a hand to my stomach, hoping it would dull the burrowing pain gnawing away at me. Of course, I dropped the tray, and with the loud clatter of the silver tray and glass shattering, Murtagh hopped up and started running down the steps. The hot ale and tea splashed my white dress, staining it. I gasped. A voice, loud and male, boomed in my head.

_Help me. Help me. I need… I need…_

I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

_I tried to nicely ask the elves. They wouldn't help, so you shall. Help me… Help me…_

"Elva? Elva?" Murtagh rushed over to me, "What's wrong?"

I looked up at him, "I don't know." I whispered, but with every breath, it was like a knife in my chest. My entire body was cold. I turned around to grasp something to prop me up, and I fell backwards. It was like slow motion as Murtagh reached out, and missed. The white marble was streaked with purple, a color not normally present in it. My head hit hard on the floor, a piece of glass embedding itself in my yawe, and the alcohol and tea seeping in and burning it. I curled into a ball whimpering and shivering, and I heard the voice boom more.

_I'm so cold. So cold, amethyst girl…_

"What's wrong Elva? Elva? What in the hell is happening?" I knew my pupils were shrinking, and my iris was enlarging, leaving my entire eye purple, and blurring my vision to all but the pain.

"The curse. The pain." I gasped incoherently. "Help me, Amethyst girl. I'm so cold. So sick. The elves didn't notice. I tried to be nice." I knew I sounded crazed muttering what the voice said to me. I swiveled my head around and saw the source of the pain- the purple egg. I sat up, staring at it. "Amethyst girl, I need the witch doctor. She can help me. Help me. I'm dying. So cold, Amethyst girl. So cold."

I leapt up, fighting off the dizziness. Ignoring my vow to not use the ancient language unless I needed to, I used the one spell I knew from stealing the baths in the Rider's quarters. "Brisingr." I muttered, my hands lighting on fire as I reached for the egg.

"Adurna!" Murtagh shouted, dousing out the fire as it burnt my sleeves.

"YOU QUAGMIRE!" I yelled, turning on him for only a moment before I said it again, lighting my hands on fire as I grasped the egg.

Murtagh muttered something I didn't understand, and yanked me over to him. "You're going to get yourself killed. Burn yourself to death in your idiocy!" was all I could discern as he pulled out a dagger and cut the sleeves off. I tugged away from him, the coldness in my body never ceasing as the fire engulfed the egg. When I was able to jerk away, I barreled out the door, Murtagh following behind me. "Elva! What is wrong!?" he exclaimed, but all I could think about was the pain, the pain and the cold. The simple stone gave way to more splendorous and exotic stone, but in the blur as I ran I noticed little. I only knew I had to get the egg to Angela. Then all would be fine. Murtagh trailed me for some reason, and people hurriedly pressed themselves against the wall as we rushed through. When I hit the ballroom, I knew right away where Angela was, and I turned and yelled for her, "ANGELA! THE EGG!" Murtagh came by me, panting, and I went to take a step forward, and tumbled down, the fire going out, and feeling utterly drained.

_Thank you, Amethyst girl._ Was combined with Murtagh going, "Elva? Are you awake?" as purple and blackness swirled into a mass and I was no longer awake.


	4. Chapter 4

**For those of you who have been waiting, my sincerest apologies. Between school and everything else, I've been quite busy. For those of you wanting to know who to thank for this chapter- after reading **girlwithwings329**'s review, I felt a huge urge to write this as quick as possible. (However, due to switching e-mail accounts, I didn't read it until 2 days ago ^^; ) So, I dedicate this chapter of ****Normality is Nonexistent**** to her, with much love. Here you go, dear!**

I'm not sure what happened after that, there was a clouded haze and clattering pain. I remember vague lavender visions of an almost concerned face. Whose it was, I had no clue, only that they called my name- that somewhere along the lines that voice told me I was crazy as it removed something from my forehead and placed something cool in its place.

When I had come to, I laid there for a second. There was nothing to do but stare at the muted color in the ceiling, and it left me feeling dizzy. After a few minutes, I tumbled out of bed and leaned in the doorway. "Angela?" I asked, using my face to shield my eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. "What happened?"

Angela just gave me a cheeky grin as I registered my surroundings.

"We don't really know." I turned to find the face that belonged to the voice.

The moment I did, I let out a curse that caused Angela to smack me upside the head. He only gave a bemused smirk.

"Murtagh?" I stated. I realize it wasn't the most intelligent thing to say, but I was beyond intelligent things at the moment.

Angela stopped mid twirl and sat a frog on his head. "And Frog!"

I made a note to myself to leap from the roof later. How, precisely, could Angela act so around a Rider? I patted my hair down self-consciously and walked over, taking the frog from his head and sitting it in Angela's little bowl of the things. "I'm sorry." I apologized, but at this pint he was chuckling in that low way that made me oddly aware of where I stood.

"How long was I out?" I went to ask Angela, only to find she had flitted from the room.

"A week and a half." I stopped and blinked at him.

"Why are you still here then? You hardly stay past a week!" I hadn't meant to let such an observation leave the sanctity of my mind, but I blamed the whole affair with the dragon egg for loosening my lips.

"I was curious what it was that happened." He stated, a bit offhandedly, as though he said this to every maiden he had come across.

Although, I was hardly any maiden, was I?

"Well, you'll be hard-pressed to find insight from me. It really just… possessed me. It happens from time to time, though never with something like a dragon." I nodded slowly as I gave a sniff at the pot over the fire. I looked at it quizzically. This was the only pot I had managed to save from her potion-making clutches that was safe to eat out of. Why did it smell like hot water? Where were the seasonings? The meat? Vegetables?

"Would you like to tell Angela that stones don't make good seasoning? She heard some tale about a man making soup from a stone. She's determined to prove it soon." Still it was spread on his face- that bemused smirk as he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head.

Angela made a clatter as she left to go to the halls. She was probably off to retrieve an animal or some such thing. "Well, I suppose I'll help the stone along." I gave a smirk and began to toss random herbs into the pot, going by smell to judge the flavor. Suddenly, he let loose a loud laugh. I stopped and gave him a bit of an indignant glare. "What is so funny?" I asked, somehow wanting to laugh along, but also secretly worried I looked like a fool.

"Over the years I've glanced at you, Elva, I don't think I've seen you look more like a witch the whole time. And I never really pegged you the type to indulge Angela's whims, either." Still, I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him smirk so long, chuckle, or be so unguarded. Was this the fruits of a week with Angela?

There was a silence as I contemplated him, and he… well I suppose he was contemplating the ceiling. "Eragon took the egg to Vorenguard." He stated. "There's something wrong with it."

"It's… cold." I said awkwardly. "That's what it told me. Well, what he told me." I went to rub my yawe symbol self-consciously, before I was aware of his eyes on the same spot. I swallowed and turned my head a bit so he couldn't have seen it unless he tried.

"It's a rare gift to communicate with dragons. But, I didn't think it was possible to communicate with them in the egg." He tilted his head and I turned my own farther away. My yawe was a curse, and as I didn't even ride a dragon, it was a mockery. It was a joke on the world's part- the toads have it, I was too! Wouldn't it be insulting for him to look at it? An elf had told me that once- Vanir was his name. _It's an insult to the riders for someone to wear their mark so flippantly._

"Are you done hiding your yawe?" At that I gave a startled look. Was it so obvious? Like a doe caught in the path of an oncoming arrow, I gave him a horrified look.

"I'-I'-I'm not hiding anything." I stammered. He arched one eyebrow, shrugged, and leaned back. I stared at a spot in the fire.

"It's an insult to the Riders to wear their mark so flippantly." I muttered, still staring into the fire. I was proud I had said it without tears, or anything of the like, simply stated it. When I was younger I was louder, more obnoxious, but the years had seen me quieted and introspective, and thus many things I had never shared with anyone sat their in my minds corners, locked away with a careful hand.

Murtagh shrugged, "Then don't."

"What?" I asked, truly unable to grasp what he said.

"Then don't wear it so flippantly. Wear it proudly knowing a dragon gifted it to you, of all people." He held up his own hand, his yawe clear as day. "This is a rare honor, Elva."

I swallowed, not sure why I felt both flattered, and somehow I felt affronted as well. "It's a real honor to have everyone's pain. Is that what you're saying? It's a real honor to be excluded and laughed at, to be ogled like some strange creature, is it? You don't know anything other than the honor of being a rider." As the words came out, I wasn't even aware of how bitter they were.

He turned to glare at me for a second, until he stood up. I stood where I was, glaring at him just as evenly. I could worry later about offense, this time I wouldn't back down from how I had felt. "It's dark, I have things to do. Good day, Elva." He started to breeze past me, and I swallowed as he stopped beside me and placed a finger on my yawe. "This is not a sign of the Riders. Riders are a thing we have added. This is the sign of a dragon's approval. That is the only honor to strive for." At that, he strode out the door without a backwards look.

For a moment, I wondered why he never seemed to look over his shoulder, but then that thought passed as I threw a bundle of herbs on the floor and stomped them to a dust. How dare he make me feel like a child! But in the same boat, I still sunk to the floor and wiped away the tears forming in my eyes.

I sat there for a few hours, until I turned and ran out the door and to the dragon's hold. As I skidded in, there sat Thorn and Shruikan. "Murtagh?" I yelled.

_He's not here, youngling. He's… attending to things._

"Oh? What sorts of things? How long? Never mind. I'll wait." I felt nervous. What was I doing here again? WHY was I here? To yell at him more? Or to thank him? I didn't know that much. Maybe it was a bit of both. Maybe it was to apologize. I did owe him an apology.

_He will be some time yet. You can return later, if you have other things that require attending._ I really hadn't a thing to do, but sitting there for lord knows how long was not appealing either.

"Very well, I'll return later." I gave Thorn a smile and patted his snout before I left.

I walked for a bit aimlessly, before heading to the throne room. I ran, perhaps because I was bored, but the moment I arrived, it was no longer a mystery where Murtagh was.

"When, Nasuada? When?" He yelled.

I stopped and blinked, retreating back out as quickly as I could and crouching in the corner.

"I told you I can't. Murtagh!" For the first time I remember, Nasuada almost sounded desperate. "We can't do this anymore. I can't go without knowing and I can also not continue to leave Jarsha with worry."

He gave a grunt and kicked something. "Who do you choose?" My eyes widened. As I chanced a look around the corner, the full gravity of the situation dawned on me. Instead of pacing as he was earlier, he was kneeling at her feet, planting little kisses on her knee.

Nasuada looked torn, until she reached to his face and tilted it towards her. "I love you both, but I've chosen my husband. The affair was a mistake."

At that, I gave a loud gasp, loud enough for them both to hear. I met their eyes for only a second, all of us staring at one another, until I turned and ran. I heard a muttered curse, and then the dull metallic clatter as Murtagh took off after me.


	5. Chapter 5

I ran up the stairs, taking three, even once I took four steps at a time. As my bare feet padded on the ground, each muted slap of bare skin against cool stairs, I begged the world over, and over again to take me. Pull me away, stretch me out of shape, twist my body and yank me out of my skin. Just take me away from this empty space ripping through the castle- this pain threatening to swallow me whole.

I was not a foolish enough a girl to count on the likes of Murtagh- he was half here, half gone, here today and disappeared in an hour. Hoping to even see him was like trying to catch a mirage. You could run and chase, but he'd never appear and never would you reach out and hold him in your fingers.

Even now the curse was forcing it all on me, the pain ripping anew in the deep seat of his chest. But, oddly, this pain isn't what I ran from. I ran from facing them. Nasuada whom I trusted, and Murtagh who I had grown to become accustomed to, like the flickering fixture of a candle.

I found that while my trust was deeply wounded, how I would never trust Nasuada ever again, this was pain I didn't mind shouldering. I told myself it took two to remain unfaithful, but Murtagh's torrent, as though he had lost his redemption, made me less angry that they had done it, and more angry they had hurt one another over it.

My hand gripped the handle of a door and I pressed it open, ducking in. I was effectively cornered, why had I done that? I could see the shadow of his feet at the bottom of the door as I backed away from it. The door slowly opened, and he looked at the ground as I backed away. I straightened the things as I bumped them, but never, once, did he look up.

"It's no use hiding it..." I managed to squeak out, my throat squeezing in and collapsing on me. "…. I feel it... I feel all of it-" The words withered and died as I tumbled back onto a couch. My legs were weak, standing was made impossible.

"Don't... tell..." He finally rasped. He rushed foreword, grabbing my face, shaking me, "For the love of God don't ruin her, drag me through the dirt but damnit don't you hurt her with this-"

Tears were snaking down my face. "I won't, I won't-" Suddenly the words felt like lead in my mouth. "Hurt Nasuada? Who do you take me fr? that's her business, not mine, same for you- hurting you would only prove a selfish way to hurt myself- Do you- DO YOU REALLY THINK I'D DO THAT, FOR LORD'S SAKE?"

For the first time I realized, the words flowing through my head from his knowledge, I actually shouted all of them in the ancient language. Murtagh's grip on my chin was bruising. He gave a low growl and pushed me away, turning to storm out the door. Indignant, I found the strength to stand straight up and hurl a vase straight at the handle. "Do you really think me a vapid witch waiting for some vindictive opportunity to do ill in exchange for whatever went wrong with me?" I hurled a pillow at the back of his head. "What went wrong with me was a stupid mistake without a way to reverse it. I'm not about to forgive Eragon, I'm not about to smile and prance around, and I'm not about to stop feeling like I don't feel like I belong, I'm not about to feel less bitter, but trust or not involved- Nasuada is important to not only me, but the entire land." Murtagh stood at the door.

"Forget you ever saw any of this- go back to your blissful life-"

"No." It took me more strength than I would ever care to admit to keep standing, and it took even more to walk around the couch and stand in front of the door.

""Child, you're playing with-"

"Fire." I finished. I glared at him evenly and he scowled. "I don't trust either of you." I stated, "But you're going to go now, and I'm not going to let you go because you won't come back."

"Not your concern." He went to yank open the door and I held my spot with a brief second of wondering about why I was suddenly so keen on making sure he knew I was unhappy but not about to let him to leave.

"What does Thorn think?" I asked.

"He said it was unwise but let me continue my way."

"Most likely he would not have let it continue if he disapproved."

"Why in the hell is a girl like you so keen on knowing?" He snapped.

"You shouldn't regret any of it, after all the approval of a dragon is the only sort of approval and honor to strive for, is it not?" For a moment his lips twitched into a bemused smirk.

"You amuse, Elva." He said, pushing me from the doorframe.

"Elle, remember?"

"Elva suits you better." He headed out the door.

"Don't leave." I said, and the slight look as his eyes met mine said all I ever needed to know. Of course he would. I was just a stupid, odd child and what I said would make no difference. "You aren't alone." I offered the lame advice to his back.

"I'm always alone." And with that he stormed off. I headed for the throne room, to find Nasuada only hunched and looking as though she just declared a war. I gave a stiff curtsy.

She went to rush across the room, but I commanded her in a low, even voice not to come near me. "I never trusted Murtagh, but I did trust you. Never again will I make that mistake."

"It was wrong, a mistake, Elle, please-" I cut her off.

"See reason? Trust? No. I give it once and when it is shattered I do not offer it twice. It was wrong, and now people are hurt over it. I won't tell Jarsha, but you lied to Murtagh. It doesn't hurt you in the slightest and now he's confused why you would love him and cut him off. The entire situation was avoidable and if you had ever cared for him you would have not let him continue in pain." I gave a curtsy, "Good day, I'll no longer plague you."

With that I left, stopping in my room to pull a change of clothes and a few supplies as well as a dagger into a bag, and stormed out, pulling on shoes and after a few seconds, stormed into the dragon hold to see Murtagh packing away. I calmly walked over to Thorn, patting his snout. "Good bye." Murtagh said, hopping onto Thorn. With a bit of a bored look, I grabbed his arm and was drug up behind him. I tossed one leg over the saddle and held tight to him.

"I'm neither your friend nor am I your enemy." I said flatly. "I simply refuse to let you be." He growled at me again -I was beginning to wonder if he was a wild animal- and then Thorn took off full speed.


End file.
